Mile Markers: The Roommate

I hope your New Year transitioned beautifully. Mine did – a local runner in Santa Barbara generously organized an informal group run (2nd annual!) along Hendry’s beach that finished five minutes before the final sunset of the year. After we logged a few miles, we gathered in a sweaty, smiley group around a card table set up on the sand and poured champagne into Dixie cups. We raised our glasses to each other and to the horizon as the last glint of red sun dipped behind the distant waves. For me it’s the perfect way to spend New Year’s Eve: friends, a run, a beach, a cocktail, a spectacular sunset, and a moment to mark our gratitude for the year behind and our hopefulness for what lies ahead. I love the way the ocean erased our running shoe footprints, giving each of us the gift of a clean slate for 2015.

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One of my few to-do’s over my break was to read a book (not really a to-do to me) for an upcoming class I am teaching, starting in February. The book is on the subject of self-compassion, which I admit I was dubious about at the onset. The more I read the more ironic I find it that I am teaching this class at all. Apparently I know very little about self-compassion. Maybe it’s the first born in me, or the type A recovering perfectionist (who was never close to perfect, just in painful pursuit), but I am more apt to berate or flog myself for perceived flaws or mistakes than I am to talk kindly and offer comfort to myself.

One of the exercises in the book asks us to listen and note the voice in our head, both our tone and the particular words we choose, particularly in difficult moments. Despite years of yoga and months of meditation, it’s still hard for me to maintain any level of consciousness that allows me to separate my self from the voice in my head with any level of regularity.

For most of my life I assumed that the voice in my head and me were the same thing. Until you notice the voice, and don’t even necessarily agree with the voice, then you have a weird brain-zapping aha-moment where you are aware of your awareness and you suddenly spy a glimpse of your ego. I like the term author Michael Singer uses for the voice – your roommate.

So I have been listening to my roommate more carefully lately, especially now that I understand that I’m not her, I only have to live with her. And let me tell you, she is totally annoying.

She does not shut up with her endless chatter and observations, which is very distracting when I’m trying to relax, enjoy myself, work, run, hike, walk my dog, read, or focus on something. When I have insomnia, she is thrilled because apparently she does not sleep and loves having someone to talk at in the wee hours. I notice that when I’m really trying to listen to someone I care about she is like a petulant, interrupting child poking me and interjecting irrelevant thoughts or else obsessed with ideas of what I could say next. And when she gets ticked off or riled up about something, which is certainly more often than necessary, she is a total handful. At times of high anxiety or in the midst of a moment I have obviously mishandled, she can be downright mean, full of blame, name-calling, and accusations. And she will not let the matter drop! She continues to harass me about it, replaying it, and presenting all kinds of ways that I could have better handled the situation. She questions my intentions, my motivation, and my results, withholding compliments for totally worthy effort, suggesting with a snide smile and a shrug that I could have done more. Meanwhile she just sits on the sofa doing absolutely nothing except having opinions on everything and talking.

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Seriously, if she were renting a room in my house instead of space in my head – I would promptly evict this pain in the ass.

Instead I am going to present her with official notice – shape up or shut up. It’s not the critic who counts, according to Theodore Roosevelt, and I tend to agree. So part of my new year will involve being more compassionate to myself, starting with the behavior that I will tolerate from this roommate of mine. She can talk all she wants (and I’m sure she will) but this year I am somehow going to learn to dismiss her or mute her when she is hurtful or holding me back. It’s time for the landlord to make some new house rules.

Next time you run or can’t sleep, or especially the next time you make a mistake, listen to what your roommate says to you. You might need to make some changes too.

I read that the kindness and compassion we offer to ourselves become the basis for the kindness and compassion we are able to extend to our loved ones and to the world at large. A subject that seemed dubious or dull at the onset now seems imperative, urgent, and entirely worthwhile.

It’s good to work hard in the new year, but it’s not good to be hard on ourselves.

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